


A Lesson in Rubato

by CarmillaCarmine



Series: Ballads of a Witcher and a Bard [9]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sex Shop, Blow Jobs, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Geralt is willing to oblidge, Good host Geralt, Goodbye Sex, Goodbyes, Intersex Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Musician Jaskier | Dandelion, Prostate Milking, Sex Shop, Sharing Clothes, Smut, ask for butt stuff and ye shall receive XD, butt stuff, butt stuff et al, it's sexy to ask for what you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25650145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmillaCarmine/pseuds/CarmillaCarmine
Summary: When he's in between contracts, Geralt hangs out at his friend Yennefer's Sex Shop. One day, when a client enters, Geralt finds himself completely mesmerised by his presence.Rubato: /rʊˈbɑːtəʊ/ MUSIC, noun: the temporary disregarding of strict tempo to allow an expressive quickening or slackening, usually without altering the overall pace.The tempo of this fic will go like this ^ sometimes slower, other times very fast. It will reach a conclusion at the end though ;)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Ballads of a Witcher and a Bard [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710100
Comments: 228
Kudos: 376
Collections: Geralt Fluff Week 2020, The Modern Witcher AU Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: In my fics I take the Witcher characters from the show, the books and the games, and put them in a blender (picking the characteristics I like and using those). This story takes place in a modern world. It will be a short, fluffy and smutty first meeting story, that is a prequel of a longer, singer-Jaskier AU (if I ever write it). For now, this is it. I hope you'll enjoy it :) 
> 
> Special thanks to [brodeurbunny30](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodeurbunny30) and [LovelyRita1967](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyRita1967) for beta work <3

Geralt felt a kick at his shin when the bell above the shop’s door jingled. Yennefer was subtle like that when she wanted to communicate something. He looked up from the black leather armchair he occupied to see her looking down at him, her wavy black hair falling to frame her face.

“Take care of this one for me, will you? I need a break,” she said, indicating a customer that had just entered her shop. Her high stilettos made a clicking sound on the floor, making Geralt recall how she looked on the stage at Triss’s club.

“Be quick,” he replied, sighing in annoyance. She was the owner of the ‘Magical Toys’ shop, but he visited often enough to help his friend out when needed. The chair he was sitting in was situated on a small platform, which meant he had an excellent vantage point for the whole establishment. 

The customer in question looked like he was lost. His doe-like stare took in the various sex toys behind their glass casings as he looked around, hands in the pockets of his oversized black hoodie. Every once in a while he tossed his head like a horse, probably so he could see something from behind the long purple fringe that hung from his otherwise short brown hair. He turned around slowly, careful to not jostle any merchandise with the bulky fabric guitar case that he wore like a backpack. No, he wasn’t lost; there was too much confidence in the movements of his long limbs as he slowly surveyed the items on display, cocking his head to the side.

From the section of standard vibrators and rabbits, he ventured into the section with anal toys, and one of his hands left its pocket to rest on his cocked hip. The progress of his perusal suggested he had a vague idea of what he was looking for. That observation made Geralt lean forward with interest, causing the leather of both the chair and his jacket to creak from the movement of his muscled body.

Geralt would be amused at the intensity with which the young man examined the shelves if he didn’t believe he was there to actually buy something. However, he seemed like he was genuinely interested. Now in the bondage section, he had both hands on his hips and his mouth was slightly agape in an expression that could be called adorable if Geralt were the kind of man to use such vocabulary. A small blush and a smile of interest appeared on the young man’s face, making Geralt reconsider the impression of squeamishness he’d initially given off. 

With another toss of his fringe, he turned in Geralt’s direction, his chin up, his back straight. He was definitely aware of Geralt’s gaze on him and judging by the tiny smirk on his face, he liked it. Geralt leaned back into the chair, seemingly unfazed by being caught staring. His eyes never broke contact, half expecting the man to turn around and leave, but hoping beyond reason that he wouldn’t. 

“I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.” The young man’s voice broke through the stream of music that played from the speakers around the shop. His voice was a lot lower than Geralt had expected, and it had a pleasant ring to it. 

Geralt didn’t reply. It wasn’t a question. 

Unperturbed, the customer took a few steps towards Geralt, hands still on his hips. There were not many people who dared to casually approach Geralt. With a scar on his left cheek, big build, and black attire, he looked as unapproachable as he wanted people to perceive him. It seemed, however, that this young man lacked even an ounce of survival instinct. 

“Fine, let’s try it this way: Hi, my name is Jaskier, and I really like your shop,” the man chirped in a happy tone, extending his hand. 

Geralt looked down and considered not taking it, but his body seemed to respond of its own volition. He watched his hand wrap around the customer’s leaner one and shake.

“It’s not my shop,” Geralt replied flatly as he let go and returned his hand to the pocket of his leather jacket. 

“Okay…” Jaskier placed the hand back on his hip but kept holding Geralt’s gaze. “So, I’d love to get that black plug, there, and the small purple vibrator,” he said, tilting his head toward the items with a smile on his face and not a blush in sight. 

“Right,” Geralt gritted out. The sentence, spoken in a sultry voice, supplied him with more ideas and vivid images than he should be having in public. 

“Can you help me with that?” Jaskier asked cheekily. Geralt refused to let it influence the spike of his libido but failed miserably. He smacked his thighs and started heaving his body off the chair to fulfil the request. 

“I’ll get that.” Yennefer’s voice came from behind Geralt before she sauntered into view. “Don’t mind him.” She addressed the customer, indicating Geralt with a wave of her hand. “I’ll pack those up for you.”

“Thanks.” Jaskier smiled, his demeanour shifting from naughty back to friendly. “Is it your place?” 

“Yes. My pride and joy, you’ll find everything your body and soul desires,” she recited the tagline. “Do you want me to wrap these?”

“No thanks, I’ll put them in the front pocket of the case.” Jaskier affectionately patted the soft, black guitar case on his back, the instrument inside evidently a dear possession. 

“Acoustic?” Yennefer asked, clearly as a courtesy at this point, busying herself with the merchandise before she headed to the register. 

“Yeah, I want to be a musician,” Jaskier beamed, following her to the counter. 

“Oh really?” Yennefer handed Jaskier the black shopping bag and indicated the price on the register with a long purple fingernail. “I’m 22 and it might be late to start, but I have a musical background and I hope I can make it before I’m 30,” Jaskier continued, talking as he handed her a wad of cash he’d pulled out of the pocket of his hoodie. He spoke with such conviction, Geralt was inclined to believe he was not boasting at all, but rather stating facts.

“Right,” Yen said absent-mindedly, accepting the money and counting it thoroughly.

“Can I ask you something?” Jaskier whispered conspiratorially, leaning closer to Yen over the counter.

“Sure, why not.” She glanced up from putting the notes into their correct slots.

“Do you think if I asked him for a coffee,” Jaskier indicated Geralt with a toss of his long fringe, “he’d refuse?” 

Despite the theatrical whispering, Geralt could hear every word. He pretended to be focused on something on the display next to him, refusing to admit to himself that he was actually holding his breath to find out Yen’s answer. 

Yennefer levelled a sceptical gaze at Jaskier, taking in his fringe, oversized hoodie, skinny jeans, and big, leather boots.

“Twink has never been his type, but knock yourself out.” She shrugged and closed the register with a powerful thrust of her hip.

The air deflated visibly from said twink, and Geralt stood again, unwilling to look at his pouty face any longer. For a moment, Geralt was undecided whether he should shoo the customer out or leave with him, even if his body had already made the rash decision on its own. 

He approached the guy from behind and realised with a pleasant surprise that there wasn’t as much of a height difference as he’d previously thought. 

“Follow me,” he said. His voice came out lower than he’d expected, and he could see goosebumps break out on the young man’s nape. 

A second that seemed to last an hour passed before Jaskier turned to face him. Geralt watched as the big blue gaze changed from a jovial look into one of surprise. Their faces were so close, Geralt had a bizarre sensation of the air crackling between them in surreal tension. 

He waited with bated breath, keeping his expression neutral until Jaskier gave a single, decisive nod. 


	2. Chapter 2

Without another word, Geralt nodded at Yen and turned towards the door. Taking the two steps that led to the exit of the low-level shop was enough for Geralt to wonder if Jaskier would follow him out. To his surprise, he realised that he’d be grossly disappointed if he didn't. 

Geralt turned around only after the rays of the afternoon sun hit his face. Jaskier was right behind him, pulling the big hood up over his head, bathing his beautiful face in its shadow. Geralt paused courteously to wait for him, but Jaskier kept on, walking past him. 

“Coffee it is, then. I’m buying, since I don’t trust strangers with my drinks,” Jaskier said with a flirty wink over his shoulder.

“Smart,” Geralt noted with a smirk as he fell into step with Jaskier. The natural charm that emanated from Jaskier was like a breath of fresh air. Not in the club, sex shop, nor anywhere else he’d gone, had he met anyone so natural in their flirting. Jaskier’s smile wasn’t fake, giving the impression that he was honestly interested in Geralt, or whatever it was he wanted from him. With nothing to lose, and no plans for the day, Geralt let himself enjoy the company as long as it would last.

As they walked through the busy streets of Oxenfurt, Jaskier hummed a melody Geralt didn’t recognize, but it was catchy enough for him to know it would be stuck in his head for the rest of the day.

They stopped at a local café and Jaskier insisted on paying with the same weird wad of cash in an era of credit cards. Geralt didn’t question it, it was none of his business, but his mind wandered through possible scenarios nonetheless. Jaskier, with his uncanny gift of persuasion, would be very good at selling drugs. However, he seemed smarter than someone meddling with gangs or dealers, so Geralt discarded that possibility. With his cheeky attitude and lean physique, he could make a killing on a stage at a nightclub. Whilst they were waiting for their order, Geralt imagined Jaskier dancing in tight boyshorts filled with bills as the crowd cheered for him to take everything off…

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice broke through the haze in Geralt’s mind. “Your Americano’s ready.” He handed him a tall cup and Geralt accepted it with a mumbled “thanks,” feeling quite dirty at how quickly his thoughts had gone awry. Their fingers brushed for just a split second during the exchange, but it was enough for Geralt to feel a spark between them. Jaskier’s subtle smile suggested he might have felt it too, but he turned back around too fast for Geralt to be certain.

As the other drink was still being prepared, Geralt observed how Jaskier handled the easy conversation the pretty barista had struck with him. Jaskier was friendly in return, but clearly not interested; his tone pleasant but devoid of the sultry intonation it had when he’d spoken to Geralt for the first time. The sharp contrast told Geralt a lot about Jaskier’s approach when he wanted something or someone... Geralt felt his chest puff a bit at being chosen, even if they were just having a coffee together and nothing else. 

As they walked side by side towards a nearby park, Jaskier picked up on Geralt’s quiet demeanour and started a monologue. He talked a mile a minute, yet somehow managed to avoid revealing anything about himself. Geralt listened to his voice and clear pronunciation, finding it very pleasant to listen to. After a while, he got so lost in the sound itself, he realised he had forgotten to drink his coffee. Feeling silly to be so infatuated with a stranger, he sipped his drink and held his gaze on the path before them, nodding from time to time.

When they finally sat on a bench facing the park greenery, he took in Jaskier’s mid-calf leather boots that had -- by the look of them -- seen a melee at a concert or six, and all-black attire, in complete contrast with his bright purple fringe and intensely blue eyes. Eyes that seemed to sparkle when he described music composition and his stance on the quality of teaching at Oxenfurt’s academy.

Jaskier caught Geralt staring, but even after his cheeks pinkened slightly, he kept talking. The reaction was so endearing that Geralt felt a pang of affection in his chest. He listened, watched, and sipped his coffee, completely at ease. He couldn’t believe he could feel so comfortable sitting next to a total stranger, but he did. There was something about Jaskier that pulled him in, the feeling almost scaring him in its novelty. He was as far from a ‘people-person’ as one could possibly be; not surprising given his unpleasant history with strangers. Yet here he was, enjoying a sunny day out; him, and a musician, both clad in black, drinking coffee in a park. If his brother Lambert could see him now, he would fall over cackling, then throw several sarcastic comments.

Geralt took a sip of his Americano and continued listening as Jaskier talked about playing his guitar, and a new song that he’d just come up with this morning. A soft gust of wind blew Jaskier’s hair onto his face, and Geralt shoved his free hand into his jacket pocket to stop the urge that rose in him. He wanted to brush the long fringe off of Jaskier’s forehead, to touch Jaskier’s cheek with his fingertips… 

Geralt shook his head in a futile attempt to clear it. For Jaskier’s proximity to affect him so badly, he must either be really tired, or deprived of a warm body for far too long. 

“You seem to know a lot about music.” Geralt stated the obvious like a complete idiot. His knowledge about notes and how music was made was close to none, but he could appreciate a good melody when he heard it. Jaskier’s technical speech only spiked his interest to hear him sing and play.

“Yeah, it’s my passion,” Jaskier sighed, leaning back on the bench. “Music is essential to life. It can change it, or just run parallel to it,” he said, staring into the distance with a dreamy look. “What I consider a good song, is one that has the ability to pick you up when you’re down, to make your bad day a better one, or to make a shattered heart feel only broken and eligible for repair. Another kind of song should let you wallow in pain, thinking that the lyrics describe exactly how you feel and are a perfect description for the agony you’re in.” 

He shrugged as if concluding an errant thought and leaned to the side of the bench to pluck a single buttercup flower from the patch of grass. He slid the hood off his head to put the flower behind his ear. The sun made his dark hair shine and his eyes sparkle, and he raised his eyes to meet Geralt’s gaze. “Well, ah...” He smiled, tilting his head to the side in an endearing way. “We walked, we had coffee, and we talked. Well, I did. So, maybe now we could head to your place?” His casual tone defied the serious implications of what he’s said. Like an arrow, the words hit Geralt with such force he thought he would keel over.

“S’cuse me?” Geralt choked out .

“I mean, we don’t have to pretend we don’t know what this is really about.” Jaskier motioned between them with his half-empty coffee cup, as he levelled a flirty smile at Geralt. They had met in a sex shop, but this was still unexpected. Geralt’s eyes focused on Jaskier’s beaming smile, and he knew refusing this man was going to be very hard.

“I’m too old for you,” Geralt said sternly, turning to face Jaskier.  _ Then why did you follow him, you idiot? _ He wanted to know more about him, wanted to bask in his radiant presence. It was enough. It had to be enough. Geralt didn’t trust himself for more. 

Jaskier deserved someone better, someone who could give him tenderness and who could admire song lyrics with him. Someone who would be able to offer him a promise of emotional attachment.

While Geralt was battling his inner demons, Jaskier opened a black, leather wallet and pulled out a driver’s licence.

“Says here you’re twenty-seven,” he said with amusement, twirling the card in his fingers.

“Is that my wallet?” Geralt growled in disbelief. He snatched it back before reaching for the piece of plastic Jaskier was still inspecting.

“I like the undercut you had there.” He pointed at the ID that was out of his reach now. “But the shoulder-length hair suits you too,” he commented, scrutinising Geralt with a sharp gaze. “There’s just five years’ difference between us. You only pretend you’re old, you big macho guy.” Jaskier lowered his voice as if to imitate Geralt, but he didn’t speak that way… did he?

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Geralt said in a flat tone. This was a mistake. If he was looking for a hookup, he wouldn’t go for the likes of Jaskier. He didn’t want to break his partner; there was no fun in that. Even if Jaskier thought he would like it rough, he had no idea what he was getting himself into. Great didn’t do fragile boys. Except Jaskier didn’t seem as fragile as he looked. 

“Then show me. I’m ready. It’s my last night in Oxenfurt, and I want to go out with a bang.” Jaskier smiled at his innuendo, thrusting his chin up in a show of defiance and sass. The naughty attitude alone indicated that Jaskier wouldn’t be what Geralt normally sought in his bedroom partners. But the determined look in his eyes, and the intelligence that shone through them, made Geralt want to toss all his usual ways aside and try something new. Just for him; just for this stranger that seemed like he had all the answers to the questions Geralt didn’t dare ask himself.

“Mmmm,” Geralt growled with as much disdain as he could muster, and stood up to leave. Even if his body yearned to touch the younger man, he shouldn’t encourage it.

He wasn’t surprised when he heard a rustle indicating that Jaskier had thrown his guitar-backpack full of sex toys over his shoulder and followed him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Jaskier has invited himself over to Geralt’s flat, the tension is cranked up to high as Geralt does his best to be a good host.

“You live alone,” Jaskier stated, looking around the flat they’d just entered.

“What gave it away?” Geralt asked, tossing the keys into a ceramic bowl on a dresser by the door. Having someone in his sanctuary of a home was unusual, but it felt like Jaskier was more of a guest than an intruder, even if he’d invited himself. 

“The minimalistic approach you have going on here.” Jaskier waved a hand indicating the small studio flat. “It’s very neat, though. I like it.” He placed his guitar case in a corner and walked through the sitting room area.

Following Jaskier with his gaze, Geralt hung his jacket on one of the hooks on the door and ventured into the open-plan kitchen to collect several stray mugs and place them into the sink. Jaskier’s sharp stare seemed to register everything around him. He walked, tracing his fingertip over the treadmill and the folded workout bench, making Geralt feel exposed, even if just a glance at him confirmed that he worked out a lot. Burning excess energy helped him maintain focus, and exhausting his body let him fall asleep easily. 

The king-sized bed in the corner of the room was hard to ignore, but Jaskier seemed to be more interested in the books that were on the floor-to-ceiling shelf. With hands linked behind his back, he eyed the spines wordlessly, observing Geralt’s evening companions. He had favourite volumes he liked coming back to over the years of his quite a solitary life, as well as a few classics. It was refreshing to see someone interested in his collection, even only for a moment. 

Geralt’s phone vibrated briefly, and he glanced at the notification as he placed it on the counter. There was a message from Yennefer: “Don’t break him.” He scoffed, sliding it to the side, unopened. There was still a possibility nothing would happen, as he was leaving it all up to Jaskier now. He decided to neither encourage nor discourage him and that whatever would happen, would happen. 

“Make yourself at home,” Geralt said with a sincerity that surprised him. Inviting anyone to his flat was unusual; telling them to feel at home was borderline out of character. Somehow, however, it felt like just the right thing to say. “Just try not to break anything,” he added, just as Jaskier reached for a green, glass decoration Geralt had gotten from Triss some time ago. She’d said that the flat looked sad and needed some colour. He didn’t think one trinket would change much, but he kept it nonetheless.

“Ok, can I take a shower then?” Jaskier tossed his head to throw his fringe to the side. 

His big blue eyes landed on Geralt, expecting a reply. He needed to get used to being taken aback by what came out of Jaskier’s mouth, or his eyebrows would get stuck high on his forehead.

“Uhh, sure. It’s—”

“The only other door, got it.” Jaskier smiled, heading towards said door, that indeed led to the bathroom.

“There are towels in the cupboard inside,” Geralt added, glad he kept his flat neat, so he knew the bathroom was in decent enough shape to be used by a stranger.

“I’ll find them,” Jaskier said, opening the door. He paused to look at Geralt again, and there seemed to be some deep analysis going on behind those beautiful eyes. Then he nodded once and disappeared into the bathroom. 

Geralt wanted to know what Jaskier had been thinking when he’d looked at him just then. The previously eager man didn't jump to offer a shower together, so maybe he was starting to lose interest already. Geralt had never complained about his short flings with strangers, or lack of them, rather, but he wouldn’t be surprised if this gorgeous, enticing, and intelligent man decided to look for someone else to entertain him. He would respect the decision, but be thoroughly disappointed nonetheless. 

The sound of water running in the shower made Geralt’s mind conjure images of Jaskier standing under the spray. His hands would be sudsing his naked body, from that sinful neck, chest, and belly, to his groin. The droplets of water would be sliding down his soft-looking skin, washing off the dust and pollen from the spring air outside.

“Mmm…” The low sound left his lips as his body heated thinking of his guest.

Realising he was daydreaming, Geralt snapped back to reality and rearranged the erection in his trousers. If he wanted to pursue Jaskier properly, he should make him feel welcome.

Opening cupboard after cupboard, he found cereal and basic cooking ingredients. He knew how to cook, but apparently, he was due a shopping trip.

As he checked what his fridge had to offer, he realised he had little choice. Not wasting any more time, he heated the frying pan as he mixed flour and eggs. Even if Jaskier wouldn’t like the food, at least the process of preparing it would take Geralt’s mind off the thought of a naked Jaskier in his bathroom. 

“Are those crêpes?” Jaskier’s resonant, warm voice reached Geralt from the other side of the room.

“Do you mind breakfast for dinner?” Geralt asked as he was flipping the second crêpe, hoping he wasn’t making a fool of himself. 

“I love it!” The honest joy in Jaskier’s intonation was addictive, making Geralt’s shoulders relax in relief. 

When he looked up, however, he froze and his breath stuck in his throat at the view of Jaskier emerging from the bathroom.

The tall, lean man was still drying his hair with a small white towel, whilst another larger one was wrapped low around his hips. What had made Geralt stare, however, was seeing Jaskier wearing Geralt’s favourite sweatshirt with the image of a howling wolf across the chest. 

“Ah, sorry. I borrowed it just for now.” Jaskier smoothed the sweatshirt down, then hung the small towel on a hook on the bathroom door. “I wanted to wear something fresh and this was on top of the clean laundry basket. It looks pretty worn, so I hoped you wouldn’t mind,” he said, offering an apologetic smile. 

“No, it’s fine,” Geralt replied, but his body responded with a possessive surge of happiness at the view of Jaskier wearing his clothes. The sweatshirt was loose on him, but the sleeves weren’t too long, making it look like it belonged to him. What was more, the sweatshirt would smell of Jaskier later, once he took it off and left it behind.

“Raspberry is my favourite.” Jaskier came closer and indicated the jam standing on the high, bar-style kitchen countertop between him and Geralt. He paused and smiled with a hand on his nape in the most adorable gesture Geralt had ever seen. 

“Hmmm, good,” Geralt commented, realising that he was still staring. “Here,” he said, averting his gaze back to the task at hand. He flipped a fresh crêpe straight from the pan onto a plate and handed it to Jaskier. “Bon appetit.”

“Thanks.” Jaskier sat on a stool on the other side of the countertop, accepting the plate. With the knife and fork that were already on the counter, he proceeded to taste Geralt’s impromptu dinner, heartily slathered with jam, before looking up - eyes wide. “This is delicious!” he exclaimed, swallowing the bite. Geralt nodded in thanks, but inside, he beamed with pride as he fixed himself a plate as well.

“What’s the other jam you’re having?” Jaskier pointed at Geralt’s plate as he was finishing his second crêpe from the stack Geralt had made.

“Pear,” he replied, cutting another piece. “Want to try?” He was reaching to pass the jar but Jaskier opened his mouth, clearly waiting to be fed. Not sparing a thought, Geralt lifted the fork and watched as Jaskier wrapped his lips around it. The simple gesture of sharing food with such ease felt intimate in a comfortable way. 

“Mmm,” Jaskier surmised, chewing, and reached for the jar of confiture. 

When only the sound of cutlery hitting empty plates remained, Jaskier placed his plate in the sink where Geralt had just put his own.

“Thank you,” he said, and he placed a quick peck on Geralt’s cheek as if Geralt had done something special. 

The feel of Jaskier’s kiss imprinted warmth and affection on his cheek, and he turned around, needing to see if the gesture impacted Jaskier as well.

Jaskier lingered, looking into Geralt’s eyes as if waiting for Geralt to make the next move. All the tiny moments they’d managed to share since they’d met built up in Geralt, and he could almost feel the crackling in the air between them. His body felt as if he was being pulled towards his guest, yet he stayed in place. 

Jaskier’s slightly parted lips beckoned Geralt to look at them, and Geralt did, focusing on the way Jaskier’s tongue peeked out just slightly to lick his lower lip. 

As if a too-far-stretched rubber band suddenly snapped in Geralt, he moved faster than his brain was able to register.

His lips were on Jaskier’s, crashing hard into the softness. Then he felt Jaskier’s tongue sneak out as he opened into the kiss. They met in the middle; their lips, their tongues, their energy matching in perfect harmony. Geralt’s hand travelled to Jaskier’s soft, short hair at the nape, pulling him even closer, as he felt Jaskier’s hands cup his face.

Heat bloomed in his abdomen. He wanted more. He wanted to throw Jaskier on the bed and show him how truly good a host he could be, and the lengths he could go to please this particular guest. If Jaskier agreed to it…

“I’m sorry,” Geralt choked out, after pulling away from the kiss, panting.

“Shhh,” Jaskier’s thumbs caressed Geralt’s cheeks, then slid back to caress the shells of Geralt’s ears. It was the most soothing feeling and Geralt gave in to the touch. “I want this,” Jaskier rasped, his seductive voice permeating Geralt’s brain.

“I need a shower, too,” Geralt said in a gravelly voice, taking Jaskier’s hands gently off of himself. “Give me five minutes.” He stepped away, his eyes still on Jaskier, as he backed into the bathroom, wanting to be as clean as the plate Jaskier had eaten off .

“I’ll be waiting.” Jaskier smiled sultrily as he ate a spoonful of raspberry jam.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier is waiting for Geralt on the bed... and all he’s wearing is Geralt’s sweatshirt

It was the fastest and the most thorough shower Geralt had ever taken in his life. He wasn’t sure what Jaskier expected from him, but he was ready for anything. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he entered the sitting room that doubled as his bedroom. 

Jaskier’s pert buttocks were the first thing his eyes were drawn to. He lay facing away from Geralt, on his front with his legs in the air, crossed at the ankles. The sweatshirt was still covering the upper half of his body as he browsed through a book. 

“You don’t need that towel where you’re going,” Jaskier commented, looking over his shoulder with a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

Geralt was done tiptoeing around the question of whether they should continue their spiral into bed. It was plain as day that they both wanted it. A low growl left his throat as he approached Jaskier from behind with a few sure steps.

Wrapping his hand around Jaskier’s ankle, he placed a kiss on the defined calf. A tiny, surprised moan came from Jaskier as Geralt proceeded to kiss, then nip up his calf. The need to devour Jaskier hard and fast was battling the need to shower him with affection and give him as much pleasure as Geralt was capable of delivering.

“The university had a compulsory testing for STIs last week and I haven’t been with anyone since,” Jaskier blurted out, taking Geralt out of the haze of his headspace. “I’m clean, is what I’m saying. I’m sure of that.”

“Right. Yeah…” Geralt stopped, with his cheek against Jaskier’s calf. He had always been careful with his partners; he never had unprotected sex and got tested regularly. Yet now, he realised he’d been so absorbed in the moment, his mind hadn’t reached the point of worrying about the basics. “Me too,” he confirmed, relieved Jaskier had thought to bring it up. 

Mood returning and eager to get started, Geralt yanked on the leg he was holding, pulling Jaskier to the edge of the bed. Jaskier’s yelp of surprise ended with a happy laugh. Geralt realised that he could spend days teasing this man just to hear that sound again. 

He bit into Jaskier’s arse-cheek playfully, sucking, before he kissed the mark he had left. He then did the same to Jaskier’s hip, marking the man as his for tonight. As he was climbing on top of the half-naked beauty on his bed, Geralt’s towel slipped to the floor, baring his already half-hard cock. 

“Tell me what you want,” he growled into Jaskier’s ear, hovering above him.

“I want you to hold nothing back,” Jaskier replied with his cheek on the duvet, lifting his hips just enough for his butt to reach Geralt’s cock. 

Geralt hissed as the head of his erection brushed Jaskier’s skin, making fire kindle in his abdomen. 

“Mmmmm,” he growled, lowering his body so that his cock rested in the valley between Jaskier’s arse-cheeks. He kissed Jaskier’s neck, right above the collar of his sweatshirt, then slid his hand along Jaskier’s lower back under the soft cotton.

Jaskier reached back to stop Geralt’s hand from moving any higher. “I want to keep the sweatshirt on.” 

Geralt wanted to assure him that he had nothing to be ashamed of, but he saw the determination in Jaskier’s eyes and didn’t question his wish. Instead, he kissed Jaskier’s neck again, and sucked his earlobe, making Jaskier purr in pleasure.

They kissed at an awkward angle, tongues reaching to taste each other. It was desperate, hot, but filled with a softness that surprised Geralt in its comfortable intimacy. With one more kiss, this time on Jaskier’s nape, Geralt moved back to kneel on the floor by the bed. 

Jaskier’s perfect arse was on the edge of it, enticing him with its beauty. Geralt cupped each cheek, marvelling at how perfectly they fitted in his hands, then spread them with a tight grip.

After placing a kiss over each of the two dimples on Jaskier’s lower back, he licked a wet stripe in the valley between his cheeks. 

“Ahhhh, Geralt….” Jaskier moaned, his hands gripping the sheets, his back arching to thrust his arse closer. The shamelessness of the movement added to the pile of things Geralt already adored in the man. He knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to reach for it, making Geralt even more determined to give it all. 

With the tip of his tongue, he licked Jaskier’s hole, smooth and neat, and wondered if Jaskier hadn’t used his razor in the bathroom. Another lick made Jaskier’s moans pitch even higher, and Geralt felt his cock twitch in response as the heat of intensified arousal spread through his body. He made alternating movements with his tongue, trying to judge by Jaskier’s noises which he liked best before he dipped the tip inside.

“Wait, ahh, wait,” Jaskier squealed, wiggling away. Geralt stopped immediately, taking his hands away.

“Are you okay?” he asked, confused as to what he’d done wrong. 

“Oh, hah, yeah… Oh, I’m okay,” Jaskier chuckled as he scrambled off the bed. “I just remembered I bought something for this occasion earlier today.” 

He padded to his guitar case, opened a pocket, and grinned sheepishly at Geralt as he waved the black bag with Yen’s shop logo. Jaskier quickly carried it into the bathroom, and Geralt recalled their conversation in the shop. He’d been planning this all along, the saucy minx. Chuckling at himself for being so easily seduced, he watched Jaskier return and place his now-clean toys on the bed. 

Instead of assuming his previous position, Jaskier knelt on the bed on all fours, facing Geralt.  He focused on the circular barbell piercing Geralt’s pubic area at the base of his cock, tilting his head, then licked his lips when he zeroed in on the Prince Albert bead ring on his glans. 

“Can I taste you too, before we continue down that path?” he asked, and the fiery look in his big blue eyes made Geralt’s cock harden even more. Still kneeling on the floor, Geralt nodded and stood, his cock level with Jaskier’s mouth. With gentle fingers under Jaskier’s chin, he made him look up, and for the first time that day, he saw uncertainty painted on those handsome features. 

“Let me know if I do something wrong,” Jaskier said, licking his bottom lip before he opened his mouth to take in Geralt’s erection. 

“You can’t possibly do anything— Oh!  _ Oh! _ Slower!” Geralt choked out, as Jaskier seemed intent on sucking his soul out through his cock. 

He pulled out and, seeing the blush spreading across Jaskier’s face, placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Your lips feel like heaven, in case you want to try again,” he whispered into Jaskier’s ear and felt him nod. After one more kiss, Geralt straightened up and palmed his cock to guide it into Jaskier’s mouth. 

This time, Jaskier sucked gently, and Geralt released a murmur of approval. It turned into a groan of pleasure when Jaskier swirled his tongue on his slide out and sucked in again. His long lashes brushed his cheeks as he closed his eyes, moaning around Geralt’s cock. He widened his stance, presumably so that his cock would brush the sheets, looking for even the tiniest bit of relief. Having his cock in Jaskier’s mouth was a feeling and a view Geralt would remember for a long while. 

Letting Jaskier set the pace, he thrust slowly, but inside, he already wanted to explode. As much as he wanted to reach his orgasm now, and paint Jaskier’s beautiful face with his come, he preferred the carnal side of the evening with Jaskier to last much longer.

With a hand in Jaskier’s hair, holding him in place, Geralt pulled out of the wet softness of his mouth. Not caring where their mouths had been, Geralt wiped Jaskier’s bottom lip with his thumb, then dove in for a kiss. 

Lips still linked, kissing between moans, they scrambled to reposition on the bed. Jaskier lay on his back with Geralt above him, their hands caressing anything they could reach.

When they finally pulled away from each other, panting, Jaskier handed Geralt a small, purple vibrator.

“Use this,” he said breathlessly. “On me…”

His legs fell open and he bit his lower lip in the most erotic way. As if Geralt needed any more incentive... He rolled his hips for friction, making their cocks slide against one another, and they both sucked in air at the pleasurable sensation.

Geralt placed one more quick kiss on Jaskier’s lips, then his jaw and neck, cursing the wretched sweatshirt preventing him from teasing Jaskier’s nipples. But he would respect Jaskier’s wish no matter what, so he moved lower. Hands on Jaskier’s hips, he kissed along his cock, hard and long, and hoped he would have the chance to feel it inside himself later. 

The shiny drop of precome on the head beckoned Geralt, and he yielded, licking it, tasting the tangy sweetness of Jaskier’s arousal. He swirled his tongue around the crown, then the frenulum, before taking the head into his mouth. Jaskier’s hands flew to Geralt’s hair, gripping tightly as he moaned a drawn-out sound. The pleasurable pinpricks of pain at the tug on his hair made Geralt growl and take Jaskier’s erection deeper until it hit the back of his throat. Jaskier let go, and, grappling for the sheets, spread his legs even wider. In one languid move, Geralt pulled away and looked up at Jaskier’s flushed face. His lips were parted and his eyes hooded as he followed Geralt with his gaze.

After retrieving a bottle of lubricant from his nightstand, Geralt reached for a pillow to slide it under Jaskier’s hips. He positioned himself between the long, spread legs, and placed an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of a creamy thigh. 

“Hold your legs,” Geralt instructed, watching as the man sprawled out beneath him, folded himself in and held his knees to his chest.  _ Flexible _ .

He paused for a second to take in the impeccable beauty of the man on his bed, before lowering himself to lick from Jaskier’s entrance to his balls, and up to the velvety tip of his cock. He smelled of Geralt’s soap, and Geralt thought idly that the scent would hold a new association for him the next time he showered. 

Geralt poured lube over Jaskier’s perineum; a bit more than necessary, but he wanted to make sure Jaskier was comfortable. Spreading it across the entrance, he dipped the tip of his finger inside and gently moved it around, revelling in the whimpery moans coming from Jaskier. 

The slim vibrator needed a coat of lube as well, so Geralt spread the clear liquid over the toy and positioned it at Jaskier’s entrance. 

Jaskier’s cheeks tensed at the contact and Geralt stopped. 

“How is it?” he asked, looking at Jaskier’s expression of bliss.

“Good… Good. Don’t stop,” Jaskier moaned in assurance.

Geralt slid the vibrator in a bit further before licking along the underside of Jaskier’s cock, adding more stimulus to the experience. He was unable to take it all in without opening his throat, and he was too focused on registering Jaskier’s reactions to do so now. He settled on gentle sucking as he moved the vibrator in and out, massaging the man’s perineum with his thumb. Jaskier was so expressive with his body and the sounds he made, Geralt could indulge him for hours. His hips made small, squirmy movements as Geralt angled the toy to brush Jaskier’s prostate before he pressed the button on the bottom, turning it on.

The keening sound that filled the room was a testament to Jaskier’s approval of the small, powerful toy. His resonating voice and the palpable pleasure it sang sent shivers of arousal through Geralt, enough that he had to rut against the bed, seeking relief.

“Enough!” Jaskier wailed after a moment, arching his body. “Not like this…” He swallowed and licked his lips. “I want to feel you inside me when I come.”

Geralt released a low growl of approval that came from deep within his debauchery-seeking soul. He switched off the vibrator and slid it out gently, watching Jaskier’s muscles relax. 

Even if he believed what Jaskier had told him, he still reached for a condom, sliding it on quickly. He positioned himself above his lover, discarding the pillow from under his hips. 

More lube was essential and he was generous, slathering both his hand and his cock before aligning it with Jaskier’s entrance. Jaskier released a choked sound, but pushed down, accepting the thick head of Geralt’s erection. 

Geralt paused to take a deep breath as the tightness of his lover’s body threatened to undo him completely. Jaskier’s eyes had been squeezed shut, but he opened them wide to watch Geralt now, his ragged breathing matching the tiny thrusts of Geralt’s hips as he slid in deeper, inch by inch. 

Geralt leaned over, hungry for another taste of Jaskier’s lips. They were parted and dry, so Geralt licked them before placing a sensual kiss that muffled their moans.

Geralt moved with languid, slight motions, but the sharp bite of Jaskier’s nails into his back told him that something was amiss. Geralt broke the kiss to look into Jaskier’s big, sapphire eyes, full of determination. That was not, however, what Geralt wanted to see in them. 

“I think you should be on top,” he suggested, already pulling out. The lack of protest from Jaskier proved his observation to be correct.

“That might work.” Jaskier’s voice was gravelly, filled with lust anew.

They switched quickly, Geralt splayed on the bed, Jaskier straddling him. It was Jaskier this time who reached for the bottle of lubricant and coated Geralt’s cock with its contents. His fingers ghosted over the wing tattoo on Geralt’s hip and the pattern on his abdomen with interest. 

As he was hovering above Geralt’s erection, he pulled up the bottom hem of the sweatshirt he wore and held it between his teeth, revealing a glimpse of his flat abdomen with a slight dusting of dark hair. They both moaned when Jaskier’s body welcomed Geralt’s cock with more ease this time. A few moments of sensual up and down movements resulted in Jaskier fully seated atop Geralt. He wiggled his bum, smiling cheekily, and let the sweatshirt fall down again. 

Geralt’s hands slid up Jaskier’s back until his fingers felt another layer under the sweatshirt. Was it a bandage? Was Jaskier hurt? His hazy, lust-filled brain couldn’t process the observation.

“Look at me,” Jaskier ordered sharply, taking Geralt’s chin in his thumb and forefinger in a show of authority. Panting, never stopping his movements, he took Geralt’s hands and placed them on his hips.

Geralt did as told, the commanding tone in Jaskier’s voice adding even more spice to his character. Geralt’s fingers dug into Jaskier’s hips when he started rocking, his movements sexy in their fluidity, like a dancer’s.

Within minutes, Jaskier was throwing his head back and releasing a keening sound of pleasure as his hips picked up in pace, driving Geralt mad with the incoming release. 

Jaskier’s hair fell over his face as he leaned forward, splaying his hands on Geralt’s chest. Reaching between them, Geralt palmed Jaskier’s cock, stroking, matching the rhythm of their intertwined bodies. 

Jaskier’s voice climbed higher in pitch and the delightful sounds of his nearing climax initiated Geralt’s own. Rhythm lost, they moved fast and chaotic, riding the wave of pleasure together, gasping and cursing in unison.

Jaskier came on Geralt’s chest, singing his orgasm high, gripping Geralt tight, milking every drop out of him.

“A moment longer,” Jaskier whispered breathlessly when Geralt started to lift him off. Jaskier wiggled slightly as if seating himself on Geralt again, then sighed; the corners of his lips rising in a look of post-coital bliss. Lifting his hips a moment later, he let Geralt’s cock slip out, then lay on his back on the bed.

Still enclosed in a bubble of amazing sex, Geralt slid his finger through the come adorning his chest and, looking at Jaskier watching him, licked it off. Seeing that, Jaskier kissed him again. This time, it was devoid of the needy desire for carnal pleasure. Instead, it was soft, lazy, and filled with affection. 

Jaskier pulled away, his eyes closed, then kissed Geralt’s cheek, before he reached for the towel Geralt had previously lost on the floor. With it, he wiped the come off Geralt’s chest and dropped it back where he'd found it. Jaskier’s no-nonsense attitude was both refreshing and extremely attractive.

“Come here,” Geralt murmured, tenderness filling his voice, and Jaskier did, lying on his back with his head on Geralt's chest. 

“Time spent with you passes like rubato,” Jaskier said, looking at the ceiling.

“How so?” Geralt had no idea what the man was talking about.

“It’s a musical term.” Jaskier waved his hand as if dismissing it, but continued nonetheless. “There’s freedom to the rhythm of what we’re doing. It’s give and take, faster then slower, but in the end, it all works out as it was supposed to.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Geralt confessed, then frowned. “I guess... that’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah…” Jaskier chuckled softly. “Very good.”

“Mmmm,” Geralt murmured, inhaling the scent of his shampoo in Jaskier's hair as his hand travelled through the soft strands. 

Jaskier's fingers played with Geralt's chest hair, and the contented sigh that left him made Geralt smile.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier talk in bed as the post-coital bliss ebbs away.

Geralt’s hand rested in Jaskier’s hair, the man’s head on his chest, the post-coital bliss ebbing as their bodies cooled. A shiver shook Jaskier, and Geralt covered them with the duvet they had kicked aside before. 

“I assume Jaskier is not your real name,” Geralt mused. “You don’t have to tell me,” he added immediately, unwilling to pry for information not freely offered. It was none of his business.

“No, it’s not.” Unperturbed, Jaskier snuggled closer, kissed the stubble on Geralt’s jaw, then lay back down, his hand on Geralt’s chest.

“Why ‘Jaskier’?”

“It means ‘buttercup’ — like the flower. Believe it or not, my hair was straw-blonde when I was a child. My grandma called me Jaskier because the colour reminded her of a flower by that name in her native tongue.”

“Mmmm,” Geralt acknowledged, resting his free hand behind his head. It felt like a privilege to be allowed to play with the dark brown strands of Jaskier’s hair with the other. 

“Have you always had white hair?” Jaskier asked, a lilt of interest in his voice. 

“I was told that one day it started growing white, like roots coming in after you dye your hair. I was too young to remember though.” That was only partially true. Geralt was able to recall a lot more of what had caused his hair to grow white, however, this was not the time nor place to dig up childhood trauma. 

“It suits you,” Jaskier said, his fingers languidly twirling Geralt’s chest hair. He took a deep breath as if to say something, then remained quiet for a while longer before he spoke. “I’m glad I’m finally leaving this city tomorrow.” 

“What’s wrong with Oxenfurt?”

Jaskier shrugged. “I just need a fresh start. I put in my time, did everything by the book... Kind of. But I’ve finished uni, and now I want something else. I mean, I like how busy my life was here, but a different ‘busy’ would be nice for a change.”

“What did you do besides school? If you care to share.”

“Besides reading my arse off and taking exams for most of the last five years? I was there for all the lazy-ass students who needed a paper written for them. On weekends, I busked in the city centre. Some nights were better than others, but I got to practice covers and some of my original songs in front of a live audience. It was fun.”

“That explains the cash you paid with at the shop.”

“Yeah. What did you think it was from?”

Geralt just shrugged and Jaskier accepted that as an answer. With how open Jaskier was sexually, it could have been a number of things. An image of Jaskier dancing on stage in Triss’s club sent a sparkle of heat into Geralt’s groin.

“How about you? What do you do?” Jaskier asked casually.

A cold sweat broke on Geralt’s skin. He chewed over how to answer that without scaring Jaskier into running away and never looking back.

“You know what, never mind. Let’s just enjoy this moment — my last night in Oxenfurt,” Jaskier said with flair, waving his slender hand.

Geralt breathed a sigh of relief, which he didn't hide well enough. Jaskier lifted his head, sharp gaze on Geralt, analysing. He frowned, narrowed his eyes, then lay back down. 

“Tea?” Geralt asked, suddenly parched. “Or… beer, maybe? I have a few bottles of Oxenfurt Special.”

“Yes to beer, unless you have chamomile… you probably don’t.” Jaskier chuckled.

“I actually do.” Geralt smiled, scrambling off the bed. 

“It helps me sleep.”

They spoke in unison and looked at each other. A burst of laughter filled the room, both of them shaking with mirth. The atmosphere was unusually comfortable considering they knew next to nothing about one another. Geralt was determined to cherish every moment of it. 

Naked, he padded to the kitchen, the cold floor not doing nearly enough to help cool his still-hot body. Opening the fridge, a bottle of milk was the first thing on the door and he took it out, enjoying the refreshing chill of the glass on his fingers. For a moment, he simply stood, staring at Jaskier in his bed, the rumpled sheets underneath him, his bare bum on display — enticing Geralt for another round. 

“I can feel you looking,” Jaskier teased, flipping over unashamedly, resting his arms behind his head. 

“Guilty as charged,” Geralt admitted, then proceeded to take a healthy gulp of the milk.

It was Jaskier’s turn to ogle Geralt's naked body, illuminated by the light from the open fridge. The appreciation in his eyes stirred new heat in Geralt that even the whiff of the fridge’s arctic air couldn’t cool down. 

Having never acquired proper teacups, Geralt put dessert plates over mugs to let the chamomile brew before he brought the hot drinks to Jaskier. They sat cross-legged on the big bed, sipping; hands wrapped around mugs, eyes locked onto one another. 

Geralt knew every little detail of Jaskier’s face; his soulful eyes, thick eyebrows, pink lips. He was trying to burn the images into his memory so he could recall this moment when he was alone. He still couldn't fathom how and why this man had picked him, of all the people in Oxenfurt, to spend his night with.

“Why me?” Geralt asked, the question flying out unannounced.

“Ah, well,” Jaskier smirked. “It was the hair.”

“Hmpf,” Geralt scoffed and took a sip from his mug.

Jaskier’s expression turned serious as he pondered the question further. 

“You look tough; your facial expressions and stance aim to push people away, but your eyes are full of compassion. I just saw exactly what I needed tonight in you.”

“Are you sure it was music you studied? Not philosophy or psychology?” Geralt challenged good-humouredly, desperately trying to ignore the warmth in his chest at the words. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Jaskier chuckled. The lovely sound carried in the small flat, filling it with a light it had never known before. 

Relaxed and comfortable, Geralt suddenly felt that something was bound to burst the perfect bubble. It dawned on him that Jaskier hadn't said if he wanted to spend the night. 

“Will you stay?” he asked, a tad too much hope seeping into his tone. 

“I was planning to... if you’re okay with that.”

“Yeah,” Geralt nodded, swallowing. “That’s okay.”

“Great.” Jaskier clapped his thigh as if the decision had been sealed. 

He stood and took both empty mugs to the sink to wash them, Geralt’s protests that he was a guest falling on deaf ears. 

Jaskier disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes, emerging with a small black bundle of fabric that he hurriedly stashed into the pocket of his guitar case. He turned off the lights and climbed into bed to position himself with his back against Geralt’s front. 

Minutes passed, their steady breathing and the ticking of the wall clock the only music in the room. Geralt found himself caressing Jaskier’s hip with his thumb, his nose buried in the man’s hair. He sighed deeply. 

Not asleep either, Jaskier wiggled his bum into Geralt’s groin. 

“What are you doing?”

“You don’t expect me to go to sleep with a pole prodding my lower back, do you?” Jaskier smirked before he disappeared under the covers. In his dreamy state, Geralt hadn’t even noticed what the sheer proximity to the man did to him.

He didn't hold in the rumble his chest made at the heat of Jaskier’s soft palate sliding over the head of his cock. The string-calloused pads of Jaskier’s fingers found Geralt’s perineum, making him gasp at the gentle massage. Geralt’s body trembled for more of Jaskier’s touch, more of his presence, his scent, his voice…

“Mmmmm, fuck,” Geralt groaned when Jaskier’s finger ghosted along his entrance. He hadn’t let anyone play with him that way for years, but Jaskier’s touch was more than welcome and he made sure it was clear by parting his legs further. 

There was a short fumble in the darkness when all touch disappeared before it was back. A click of a cap sounded under the covers. Geralt squeezed his eyes shut as Jaskier’s slick finger circled his ring of muscle, preparing for entrance.

He gasped and relaxed, the digit easing in as Jaskier’s tongue continued to swirl around his cock, playing with the piercing there. 

“Good…” Geralt whispered.

Jaskier crooked his finger, brushing it over Geralt’s prostate. Panting, Geralt threw the sheets aside to get a glimpse of Jaskier in the faint light from the streetlamps outside. All motion ceased. 

“Don’t let me stop you,” he rumbled. “Go on… please.”

He could feel Jaskier’s smile against the inside of his thigh before the heat of the man’s mouth engulfed his cock again. 

The second digit gliding in made Geralt arch. His body was on fire and it was a joy to burn under Jaskier’s touch. The fingers inside massaged Geralt’s prostate more and he let his lewd moans fly, knowing Jaskier was lapping up the milky fluid that the massage must be creating. 

It had been a while since he wanted to be taken, to be filled by another man, to be thoroughly fucked. He wanted it now but had no nerve to ask, even if he was on the brink of begging for it. 

“Jaskier!” he shouted, the sensations inside him and the wet heat on his cock tipping him over the edge. “I’m coming, ahhhh...” 

Hoping it was enough of a warning in case Jaskier wanted to pull off, he gripped the rails of the headboard and rode the wave of the orgasm. He bucked his hips. A tide of heat gripped his muscles as he thrashed on the bed, tensing, cursing, screaming his lover’s name. 

Jaskier’s lips never left his cock, milking him dry, drinking every drop. 

Just when Geralt was calming down, Jaskier pulled his fingers out gently, massaging the still-pulsing entrance. A wet lick over the tip of Geralt’s sensitive cock made him hiss, but Jaskier placed one more kiss on his sac and the inside of his thigh before he pulled away. 

“Sleep,” Jaskier whispered and Geralt had no energy to protest. He wanted to return the favour but the curtain of blissful exhaustion weighed heavy on him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their last moments together before Jaskier leaves Oxenfurt.

Geralt woke up to Jaskier’s cold nose and hot lips nuzzling his neck. Wrapping his arm around the man, he pulled him closer, revelling in the comfort the touch brought. He didn’t want to open his eyes in case it was just a dream and he would wake up to an empty bed, only Jaskier’s scent lingering. 

“Good morning,” Jaskier whispered, kissing Geralt’s cheek before getting to his feet.

“Mmm, morning,” Geralt grumbled at the loss of contact.

When he finally dragged himself out of bed a few moments later, there was coffee ready on the counter and a pair of mismatched bowls were sitting next to a box of cereal. 

“Come on, breakfast of champions is waiting. You need some sugar to fuck me one more time before I have to leave.”

Geralt was glad he hadn’t managed to take a sip of coffee yet, as he would definitely have either spat it out or choked. Instead, he cleared his throat and watched Jaskier pour milk over his Cheerios. 

They chatted about everything and nothing; from Oxenfurt’s new opera to the unsteady political climate of neighbouring countries. 

After they'd both refreshed in the bathroom, Geralt found Jaskier on the bed again, covers neatly made. Only the long-legged, wide-smiled beauty lay in the middle of it. 

If only this could be Geralt’s life.

For a split second, he allowed himself to dream of cheering Jaskier in his musical career and spending lazy evenings under the covers together. That was not in the cards for him, however, and it was foolish to entertain ideas that would only make him long for something he couldn’t have. 

“Come on, big boy,” Jaskier challenged, patting the bed in an invitation, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Don’t push it,” Geralt growled in a playful warning.

“Ha!” Jaskier smirked, stretching like a lazy cat in a sliver of sunlight. 

Geralt lunged. Jaskier’s squeal of delight brought a grin to Geralt’s face, and he peppered kisses on Jaskier’s jaw and along his neck, nipping lightly before he sucked just above Jakier’s collar bone. 

“Hey,” Jaskier scolded, covering the place with his hand. “Well, I guess I’ll have something to remember you by for the next few days. I will think of you every time I see it in the mirror.”

Geralt buried his face in the crook of Jaskier’s neck, absorbing the words, letting them fill his chest, his mind, his bones. 

_ Stay. _

He wanted to beg.

Instead, he asked, “Do you want to be on top again?”

“No, I want it like this.”

“Are you su—”

“You won’t break me,” Jaskier interrupted, placing a finger over Geralt’s lips. “In fact, I want you to pound me.” He reached to capture Geralt’s lips with his own. There was a hint of desperation in the kiss and Geralt knew it was a goodbye. This was going to be their last time together and they both knew it. 

Geralt moved down Jaskier’s body, cursing his ever-present sweatshirt in the process. He placed a kiss on Jaskier’s hip, then the tip of his cock before he took the hard length into his mouth. Ready to lavish every inch of Jaskier, he held his graceful legs apart. The velvety skin under Geralt’s tongue, the precome-oozing head against his throat, the trembling thighs under his hands; all the sensations he was committing to memory. 

Sucking cock had never been such a transcendent experience. 

“Inside me…” Jaskier moaned, tapping Geralt’s shoulder with the bottle of lube. 

Still sucking, Geralt took it, looking up Jaskier’s body to his flushed face. 

Gorgeous.

He opened the bottle. Pouring the contents on his hand, he slathered Jaskier’s sac, playing with it in his hand, before he reached under it. His finger slid halfway into the tightness, so he added more lubricant before he inserted another, listening for any distress in Jaskier’s tiny, breathy ‘Ahs’.

“How is it?” Geralt asked, releasing Jaskier’s cock from his mouth. 

“Good… more. Come here.” Jaskier opened his arms.

With the last twist of his wrist, Geralt pulled out, making Jaskier whimper. Taking hold of Jaskier’s hips, he pulled him to the edge of the bed. He climbed up Jaskier's body into the welcoming embrace of arms and parted legs. The gesture was erotic in its open summons.

“Fill me,” Jaskier whispered against Geralt’s lips before he captured the lower one to suck it. Geralt groaned and kissed Jaskier with feverish need before he moved down to stand on the floor. Lifting one of Jaskier’s legs, he licked the ankle, now level with his mouth.

Those big, blue eyes watched him with a hooded gaze, taking in Geralt’s muscled chest and arms. It felt as if all the workouts he’d ever done were for this moment. The hours spent lifting weights were so Jaskier could look at him as if he were a wet dream. He wanted to be the man Jaskier saw him as.

Wordlessly, Jaskier handed him the lube again and Geralt pulled on a condom before he poured some on his cock and his fingers. 

Two of his digits slid into Jaskier to slick him more. He was ready. Geralt replaced his fingers with his cock, sliding slowly in. 

After a few slow thrusts, he picked up the pace but kept his movements smooth, almost languid. 

“This is torture, Geralt…” Jaskier moaned, tossing his head back. 

Geralt leaned over him to seize those perfect lips, parted by moans. Their tongues were quick to find each other and engage in a tango of need. 

Jaskier’s legs linked together on Geralt’s back, and he gasped as Geralt increased the rhythm, holding Jaskier close.

Geralt only broke the kiss to hear the beautiful song of Jaskier’s moans. They panted, their breaths mingling — too far gone to kiss anymore. Geralt slid a hand between them to take Jaskier’s cock and matched the tempo of the strokes to his thrusts. 

The nails digging into his back and his arse signalled a wordless plea for more. 

He stood up, legs firmly on the floor, one hand on Jaskier’s hip, the other on his cock. One look at Jaskier confirmed he hadn’t changed his mind, so Geralt snapped his hips with the ferocity Jaskier had asked for. Over and over again.

“Now, Geralt! Come with me— Ahhhhh!!!” 

The high note of Jaskier’s keening and the sight of him coming sent Geralt over the edge. He fell, flying free, riding the cloud of rapture. Jaskier pulsed around him and the intensity caused Geralt’s limbs to tremble. 

“Jaskier! Fuck, yes!” Geralt grunted. His thrusts were shallow and fast as he watched the myriad of beautiful expressions pass over Jaskier’s face. 

He looked at Geralt and mouthed his name before one more ribbon of come unfurled into the air, coating Geralt’s hand. 

Utterly spent, he pulled out, pulled the condom off and wrapped it in tissue from a box nearby. The sweatshirt Jaskier was still wearing rode high enough on his abdomen to remain clean. Leaning in, Geralt kissed the lean-muscled plain of his stomach. With a languorous slide of his tongue, he lapped Jaskier’s release until there was none left before cleaning the head of Jaskier’s softening erection. 

Jaskier hissed then relaxed when Geralt kissed his hip. Unable to stop himself, he kept kissing down Jaskier’s legs, softly dusted with dark hair. When he licked the inside of Jaskier’s knee, a joyous giggle made him stop as Jaskier wiggled his leg. _ Ticklish. _ He nuzzled his way along the calf to the ankle, his gaze on the soft smile adorning his lover’s face. 

“You seem to like my legs,” Jaskier mused. 

“Nah, I like all of you.”

“Hmpf, you haven’t seen all of me.”

“I don’t need to.” 

Jaskier turned his head to look towards the window, his lips thinning. Did Geralt say something wrong?

Mood lost, Jaskier slid off the bed and went to the bathroom. He came out wearing his insanely tight trousers and big boots. Geralt’s sweatshirt remained the only sign left of their bedroom endeavours. That chapter had been firmly shut, and Geralt could already feel the loss.

Geralt refreshed himself and rummaged in his drawers for his go-to comfy attire: a pair of worn jeans and an old tee. Meanwhile, Jaskier tuned his acoustic guitar and plucked the strings in melodies unknown to Geralt. 

Lured by the sounds, he sat on the edge of the bed, watching Jaskier cross-legged on the rug. Soft humming turned into words and Jaskier sang with his eyes closed, allowing Geralt to take his fill. He understood the words but wasn’t able to grasp the meaning of the lyrics which flowed like poetry. When Jaskier stopped to write down a line in a battered notebook, Geralt seized his chance to speak. 

“What inspires you to write?”

“It can be anything. Life, mostly.” He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I could write a song about you, in fact.”

“Right.” Geralt made a sound at the back of his throat.

“I mean it,” Jaskier said, his gaze meeting Geralt’s for a brief moment of deep connection before he looked back to the guitar. 

His left hand effortlessly moved on the fretboard, as his right plucked the strings. He was incredible and the lyrics only confirmed that his heart was bigger than the world deserved. 

Geralt felt something in him change. An overwhelming feeling took over not only his body but his… heart? Soul?

He felt the need to protect Jaskier because his light was too bright for this cruel world — he was bound to get hurt. Yet Jaskier didn’t seek protection. He was an adult with his head in the clouds but feet firmly planted on the ground. He didn’t need a saviour. 

Jaskier stopped playing, glanced up at Geralt, then jotted down a few lines under the music notes he’d scribbled before. 

“The song of…” Jaskier’s voice trailed off, the corner of his lips tugging up into a smirk as he tapped the end of the pencil on his boot. “The song of the White Wolf.”

Geralt’s eyebrows hid in the hairline of his white hair when he grasped the meaning. He looked at the notebook again, but Jaskier closed it, letting Geralt see the title scribbled in black marker on the cover: ‘Time of the Moon’.

“I should go,” Jaskier said, packing his guitar. 

A protest formed on Geralt’s lips but the determined movements of Jaskier’s hands and the decisive posture as he stood up suggested there was no room for negotiation.

Jaskier stopped at the door and swept his gaze over the entirety of Geralt’s small flat and nodded once as if sealing the memories made in the place closed. 

Geralt crossed the room in three large steps, wanting to open his arms to offer a hug goodbye, needing to feel Jaskier close for the last time. Instead, he extended his hand for a shake. Jaskier scoffed at it. 

Arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace that felt as if the night had meant as much to the young man as it did to Geralt.

Jaskier stiffened when Geralt’s hands automatically brushed his back. The extra layer underneath was gone. If that had been a bandage, Jaskier wouldn’t have healed enough overnight to take it off. 

A realisation dawned on Geralt when he felt that Jaskier’s chest was not as flat as he would have expected. Jaskier shouldn’t have hidden from him, it didn’t matter. Now it was too late for talk and assurances. 

Jaskier pulled away, his face stern, his gaze searching Geralt’s. They both knew what Geralt had figured out, and Jaskier waited for questions. None came. At least not the ones he was probably expecting. 

“We can go for breakfast if you like. I’m afraid we’ve exhausted my food supplies.” Geralt smiled and saw Jaskier’s shoulders visibly sag in relief. 

“No, it’s okay.” Jaskier put a hand on Geralt’s cheek as their gazes met. The blue of Jaskier’s eyes was like a sea that Geralt wanted to swim in until he couldn’t move his limbs anymore. He would just float then, enjoying the privilege of getting lost in the depths. “I have to go,” Jaskier said, his warm hand sliding from Geralt’s cheek. “Shit, sorry, I forgot. I’ll just change from your sweatshirt.”

“You can keep it,” Geralt said, taking in his fill of Jaskier in his clothes.

“Right, thanks,” Jaskier chuckled, as if embarrassed. “I can wash it and send it back to you.”

“Forget it, it’s yours.” Even if he threw it away, Geralt would know that he at least wore it for a day.

“I really gotta go,” Jaskier repeated as if Geralt wasn’t the only one who didn’t want him to leave. “My train is in three hours.” 

“I’ll walk you. Or we can ride; I have a bike.”

“A motorbike?” Jaskier asked with interest. 

Geralt nodded. 

Jaskier looked intrigued for a moment, but finally shook his head. 

“No, this is good. It was perfect. Thank you.” His hand lingered on the knob before he opened the door. “I’ll never forget this,” Jaskier whispered into Geralt’s ear, reminding him of their nearly non-existent height difference.

When Jaskier pulled back, he didn’t look into Geralt’s face, but slid through the cracked-open door and closed it with a definite, albeit soft, click.

“Goodbye,” whispered Geralt into the closed door of his empty flat. 

He collapsed onto the bed.

A small, yellow flower Jaskier must have taken from behind his ear lay on the book on Geralt’s nightstand. He picked up the fragile plant and put it in between the pages of the volume. “I’ll never forget it either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!   
> Those of you who followed the fic as a WIP finally have the answer to your question. Jaskier is intersex.  
> Those who read it as complete can see it in the tags. Comments and constructive criticism welcome. Thanks for stopping by :*

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, kudos and comments! 
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, consider subscribing to [my profile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmillaCarmine), or to a series that has all my Geraskier works: ["Ballads of a Witcher and a Bard"](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710100)  
>   
> You can follow/contact me on:  
> [my Geraskier Twitter](https://twitter.com/CarmillaCarm6)  
> [my Geraskier Tumblr](https://carmillacarmine.tumblr.com/tagged/myfic)  
> [my Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/CarmillaCarmine)  
> For queries connected with translating my work, please see my bio :)


End file.
